


Cry for Help

by Spacegaywritings



Series: Bad Therapists have a special Place in Hell [5]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Depression, Mental Health Issues, Stress, Suicidal Thoughts, bad therapists, cry out for help, guilt tripping, invalidating mental illness, literally Emile is such a piece of shiT, nobody gets hope for him - not even as a treat. “too rich to suffer” mentality, offensive language, rejection pains, suicide baiting, therapeutical inattention, u! Emile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacegaywritings/pseuds/Spacegaywritings
Summary: Logan suffers from invalidating himself so much, he ends up hurting himself. Emile tells him that if he wants to die, to just have the courage to do it.
Series: Bad Therapists have a special Place in Hell [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940389
Kudos: 11





	Cry for Help

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: writing based on subjective experiences based on therapy, mental health issues and (LOCAL) stigmas. You might have better/worse/different experiences with your struggles and how they were perceived and treated. Your culture or surroundings might have different bias. This is for venting and does not objectively apply to everyone’s experience of their mental illness or struggles.

The sun was going down.  
Fading rays illuminated the office, barely gifting it any more warmth. The sun was still shining but it disappeared behind the city buildings. The sun rays were so long, they reached the earth in a wide stretch.  
It was cold, even colder than the office usually seemed. The practice has white walls only, was in a multi-story building. Small, humble.

The man sitting there, tie and collar adjusted, gazed upon the his wrist. A fancy, silver wristband hugged his limb and decorated his arm. The precious feature was slim, a bit of metallic colour to it. The watch’s fingers moved. Moved. Rhythmically moved and moved more.  
He looked back at the office. Logan liked it.  
Still, there was a certain feeling of unease coming with the white walls staring him down. They were surrounding him, almost as if to inch in and corner him, trap him.  
He checked his watch, then the room.

The wooden door opened with a swing and a small figure danced into the place. He was not actually dancing, Logan noted to himself, but the light feet and easy tapping reminded him of the grace dancers showed when appearing on stage.  
While the therapist had more heaviness in his movements and was not as impressive, his entrance had granted him a bit of Logan’s attention.

“Hello! You must be Logan! I am glad you made it through the traffic. It gets really busy in these streets, especially since we are so close to town.”

He stood up to greet the man. Emile turned around to close the door properly and looked at Logan. Upon seeing him, he stretched out his hand and beamed at the slightly taller client.

“Good afternoon, doctor. Yes, I am Logan”, he took his hand, a slight smile appearing on his thin lips. It was come and gone like the sun. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The doctor giggled, as if bringing up his title gifted him with another swirl of happiness in his swinging body. He returned to the door, facing it and turning on clinically white lights.  
Cold white.  
They were not the warm kind of lights people would love to see in fairy lights. They were everywhere and seemed to illuminate Logan like a test object in a scientific experiment. Had the room been made more transparent, Logan would have made this connection for sure.

“Please, have a seat. Recliner or couch, whatever is more comfortable to you.”

Logan nodded and chose the couch.  
The dying rays of lights seemed to reach out for him too much. At this moment, he did not desire the sun’s caresses on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

The therapist placed himself on his own seat and took out his clipboard, his legs crossing.

“Now, you probably already know this but I am doctor Emile Picani and I am your therapist. I am here to help you today to see whether we two are a fit to work together - or whether you need someone else or nobody at all! I mean, who knows!”

He chuckled and Logan rose an eyebrow but nodded.  
The man was a scientist himself. He was a doctor, he was one of the youngest doctors in the world, working in a research laboratory. So he knew his way around science, he loved and observed things and he loved to mess around with theories and figure out more things about physics but at the same time, he did not know too much about psychology.  
Maybe therapy was not for everybody? Emile was a expert. He should know better.

“Now, what issue brought you here today?”

The man in black and blue blinked as if to process the question. His mind was producing words, inventing phrases and trying to put together just how exactly he found himself looking for therapy.

“Nothing is right, I think”, he started but cleared his throat. His face twitched for a moment, “Let me explain this. My life is right. I have a stable job and earn a lot of money. I have friends, family and they re nice and loving. They are present, yet I feel like.. I have never accomplished anything.”

He sighed.

“But you did..?”

Logan nodded.

“It is paradoxical, I know. I have so much and feel so little. It is as if nothing ever mattered.”

The therapist started noting down words. Logan heard the scratching and slowly turned his head away.

“Interesting.. How do you feel about your parents?”

The man shrugged in a non-committal way.

“We are in contact. We regularly meet and spend time together. Everything is sorted out. I had a rather normal life and childhood, I suppose.”

Emile nodded.

“Do you have any hobbies? Are there things you enjoy?”

Logan adjusted his glasses despite their position remaining the same in the end.

“I do enjoy educating myself on different topics such as astronomy, literature and other things. I also do relish in making plans, reading or meeting my friends every now and then. I have a healthy diety, composed by my dietician and regularly attend to gym in order to sustain physical health.”

“Uh-uhu..”, Emile mumbled, trailing off.

The pen was scratching harder, it was louder and faster than before. Like kids trying to keep track of everything the teacher said after “this will be on the test”.

“Very interesting. Thank you for all the input. I have the feeling the issue is pretty clear, so let me put this on the table.”

Logan nodded.  
His knees snapped together but not a single fibre in his face moved. His shoulders pulled up into a more tense state but he remained as stone-faced as before.

The therapist cleared his throat for the dramatic effect.

“I think you might be blowing your issues a bit out of proportion. As you mentioned before, you have a completely satisfying life and are happy with it. What else is there to worry about, I mean - I saw the car you came in and it does not look like a lot of issues are parked in the front of my practice.”

Logan felt his chest tighten but remained composed. His breathing had stopped. The whole body was completely motionless and something within him froze.

“Doctor Picani, I value your input but I think you might be missing an important point I am making. Life has no value to me. My own life has no value to me. Waking up or not - it is all just the same and feels exactly the same. I want to die, doctor.”

The therapist took the information with a smile on his cheeky face. Logan could feel his insides twitching in discomfort but he tried to stop himself, stop his mind from judging. He did not know anything about psychology but he was sure to be in good “hands” with Emile. Metaphorically speaking. Reactively, the gears in his brain slowed down. Instead of evaluating the message, he was firm on taking it all in first. 

He took a shallow breath in, nodding to let the doctor speak. Emile took the word with gratitude and awarded Logan with another uncomfortable smile.

“Are you making this up right now? I have grounds to believe you are being a little bit.. extra.. with me, right now.”

Logan blinked.  
No.  
Try to suspend judgement. It might just be a harsh sentence and a much more gentle evaluation. He was sure about this. This was a professional person after all.

“Listen to me, listen close. You did not give me even a single reason for you to be upset or depressed and it sounds a teensy tiny bit as if you are looking for attention. If you want to pay me for attention, you can buy my time but I am certainly not as cheap as other people you could hire for a quick visit and an hour of talking.”

As Logan’s mother used to say “after rejection, there is wrath”, Logan shook his head, his facial features pulling together like a mask of wrath.  
Though.. when he spoke, there was a cold, calm anger spiking in his words. They unravelled like flowers opening ever so slowly after a rainy shower.

“Doctor Picani, I beg your pardon but I am a man telling you I have a death wish. I am describing how painful and bland life seems to me and you are responding by invalidating my concerns?”

The therapist shrugged.

“You would be fun to analyse”, he commented with a tinge or sarcasm biting at Logan’s hot arms, “You are coming here, telling me you have a great life and nothing to worry about, yet you are worried about not feeling anything? Maybe YOU are the problem for taking things for granted, for taking for family and everything for granted. Maybe you yourself are at fault for whining so much, when you literally have a perfect life.”

He cleared his throat and got up, staring at Logan with a power in his glare. Nobody could have imagined the sweet little twink in pink to be such a menace of conservatism in one bundle of pastel colours and joyful giggles.

Who laughed at their clients anyway?

“You say the problem is that I am whining, you say? So I caused my own dilemma?”

Logan sat back down, as if to admit defeat. His wandered over his chest when he crossed his arms before his heart but he retreated his limbs at once and exposed his vulnerable yet hurting core.

“Basically yes. This is okay, I will tell you how to solve it! Life is not for everybody but if you try a bit to think of yourself and others in a more grateful way, you might be able to overcome any kind of weird mood or thoughts you might have! Now, you just sit down with me and close your eyes. Tell me why your friends make you happy?”

The addressed man shrugged.  
His heart was empty.

“Maybe they do not make me happy. I do not feel happy. I feel delighted every now and then but actual happiness sounds like a lie. My friends make me forget about these things and ease me up a bit but it is nothing but temporary bliss at most. I think you might be on the wrong track with me, doctor. With all due respect, you are making me feel quite worse.”

The therapist laughed, no, he sneered. He made fun of Logan and shook his hair as if to feel every bit of criticism the other doctor had brought up to him.

“You, mister, are an exemplary case of arrogance. I think you are exceeding our time at this session now”, he kicked the shelf with a clock on it and brutally pushed the fingers into place.  
Logan glanced at his own watch before calmly facing the man again.

“If you wanted to die, you would have already done so. I don’t think you need my admiration in order to feel any better. You need to get your head out of your ass and live a little. Be spontaneous and give away control and you might not be too stuck up to smile, once in your life.”

He sighed and pointed at the door. His other hand brushed through his hair. The clock started ringing like a hyperactive cock not understanding the difference between sunrise and sunset.  
Logan slowly got up, adjusting his tie and shirt.

“Good day, doctor Picani. It was an interesting encounter.”

Logan left, as soundless as his car engine when he took off.

Emile looked out of the window.  
There was only one more patient left for the day.

**Author's Note:**

> End Note: This is not how a therapist should treat you. If someone treats you or your issues like that, please make sure you leave immediately and report this. A real therapist will validate your concerns and try to redirect your thoughts. If you have mental health issues, please reach out for help. Suicidal thoughts are no fun and should not be joked about lightly. If you suffer from them, please reach out for help. There are numbers and organisations out there to help you and support you. You WILL be missed by people you would not expect you to miss.  
> These thoughts can have several different causes. It makes sense to contact a GP and work with a therapist and even psychiatrist if needed. If it is intense, please consider a psych ward or similar institutions in order to keep yourself SAFE. Your well-being matters!  
> You do not need a certain age, trauma or circumstance in order to develop mental health issues. Aversive Childhood Experiences (ACEs) increase the risk but it depends on many more. Don’t let anyone invalidate your needs. If you need help, you usually know yourself best and understand life is harder than it should be. Keep looking for the adequate support you deserve and need!


End file.
